


The Mighty Fall Far

by winnerstick



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Sick Enjolras, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winnerstick/pseuds/winnerstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He wasn’t sure who he was expecting, but a grinning Grantaire holding what looked to be soup in his hands was not even near his list."</p>
<p>Or, Enjolras gets very sick because he pushes himself too hard, and Grantaire comes to the rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mighty Fall Far

Enjolras didn't quit until he was about to die.

And now that he was lying in bed, sniffling and coughing up a lung ever few seconds, he really regretted it. He regretted every time he pushed off taking a nap or resting his voice instead of pushing forward with hours of work and long, drawn-out speeches. He had noticed himself getting worse and worse, and yet he insisted on only getting about three hours of sleep per night between classes and working on the next protest. Enjolras had been foolish, and now he was paying the price.  


But he wasn't expecting the price to be so... horrendous. He knew he had a cold, but he didn't think it could get this bad. Now he was achey and sore and his throat was raw and burned with every cough. There was a small mountain of tissues beside him and he alternated between covering up with every blanket in the house and kicking them all until they pooled at the foot of his bed. Getting out of his own bed was a chore and only to be done at the most extreme of circumstances, at the absolute last moment. He couldn't recall the last time he felt this horrible.

"Courfeyrac," he spoke into his phone, trying not to sound as pathetic as he felt. "Could you bring me soup?"

Enjolras could hear Courfeyrac's attempts at stiffling a laugh. "Oh, our fearless leader can't get it himself? How'd you let yourself get so bad, Enj?"

Enjolras sighed and dropped his head back on his pillow, balancing the phone on the side of his head as his eyes slipped closed again. "I was busy."

Now Courf didn't even bother hiding the laugh. "I'd love to help, but I can't. I have labs all day."

"What about Combeferre? Joly?"

"Combeferre is visiting his parents for the weekend. I don't think you want Joly to come over. He'll just stress you out more and then be terrified he's going to catch it, too. I can talk to the others and try to send someone over, but no promises. You might be handling this one alone."

Enjolras groaned miserably and rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, alright. Thanks anyway, Courf. I appreciate it."

"Feel better."

That didn't seem possible, even as Enjolras closed his eyes and drifted off into a restless sleep. Of course he would get better eventually, but it probably wasn't going to happen in the foreseeable future.

\----

Enjolras woke to very insistent knocking at his door. At first, he tried to ignore it. Maybe if he pretended not to be there, whoever was at his door would just go away. But after about five straight minutes of knocking, it was pretty clear that his visitor wasn’t going away any time soon, so Enjolras dragged himself out of bed and wrapped his comforter around him as he trudged through the apartment.

He wasn’t sure who he was expecting, but a grinning Grantaire holding what looked to be soup in his hands was not even near his list. Enjolras opened the door and stared at Grantaire with an eyebrow raised, while the other man only grinned back sheepishly.

“I heard you were sick. You look it, too. Has Death come for you yet?”

Enjolras glared at him and leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want, Grantaire?”

“I thought it was obvious?” he said, glancing down at the container in his hands again. “You’re sick. Everyone else is busy. I figured you could use some soup, and I’m not sure if you’d have any chicken noodle here.”

“I don’t eat me—“

“Meat, right. That’s why this is vegetarian.”

Enjolras just stared at Grantaire for a long time. He wasn’t sure how to respond to this act of kindness, especially from the drunk. Not that Grantaire had ever been bad to Enjolras, he just didn’t expect Grantaire to go out of his way to come see Enjolras when he was sick, with vegetarian soup in hand. It wasn’t until Grantaire cleared his throat with an awkward cough that he realized he still hadn’t offered the older man entry into his apartment. So Enjolras opened the door wide and took a step back.

“Why are you here? I mean, obviously, to bring me soup. But… you already brought it. You can leave now.”

He would have said more, but he was cut off by a coughing fit that almost had him on his knees with the pure force of it. But Grantaire was at his side in seconds, with one hand on his back, patting half-heartedly, and the other on his arm, keeping Enjolras up. He helped Enjolras straighten up again once the fit had passed and led the taller man to the couch.

“I’m here to help,” Grantaire said, shrugging as Enjolras sank into the cushion. “So, you’re kind of stuck with me for a while. But I’m going to go heat this up, alright? Stay here, don’t try anything dumb, like standing up.”

Surprisingly, Enjolras did as he was bid. He stayed put and watched as Grantaire helped himself to Enjolras’s kitchen and prepared the soup for him. Every once in a while, the other man would turn to Enjolras and smile at him, which Enjolras could only respond to with a dazed look. Finally, Grantaire came back with a bowl of Enjolras’s meal and what looked to be nighttime pills the size of Enjolras’s knuckle, which the blonde regarded with a scowl.

“I’m not taking medication. I don’t like being out of it.”

“Like you aren’t dopey now? You were staring off into space for like two minutes straight, Enjolras, and didn’t even hear me say your name a minute ago. I think some sleep would do you good. These will just help you stay asleep, instead of dozing on and off.”

Enjolras sighed and nodded as he started in on his meal, glancing up at Grantaire every few minutes, who had busied himself with drawing on a napkin.

“What are you drawing?” he finally asked once his soup was nearly gone, looking curiously at the small paper.

“Just… doodling,” Grantaire mumbled, his face turning a slight shade of pink as he slid the paper closer to himself and smiled sheepishly at Enjolras. “Are you finished?”

Enjolras nodded and Grantaire took the bowl from him, setting it on the table before taking Enjolras’s hand and leading him to Enjolras’s bed. Had Enjolras been in a better condition, he would be irritated at the lack of dignity in this, and the fact that his friend was coddling him and treating him like a helpless two year old. But the fact was, he was in an awful condition, and all he really wanted to do was sleep, now that he had managed to choke down those pills in the middle of eating his soup.

\---

When Enjolras woke next, he felt wide awake and not quite one hundred percent, but definitely a lot better than he had before he fell asleep. He pushed himself up and out of bed, opting to leave the comforter behind this time, and walked slowly out of his bedroom and to the living room, where he found Grantaire, with his back turned toward him, sketching in a notebook. Either Grantaire hadn’t heard him yet or was ignoring him, but either way, he didn’t turn around and Enjolras was able to make the entire way to the couch and peer over his shoulder without any opposition from his friend.

“That’s me,” he mumbled, looking at the obviously sketched, but still masterful depictions of his own face and body. It wasn’t just one sketch; it was a whole slew of sketches. Some of just his face, some where he was awake, some of him asleep, and some were comical, littered with exaggerations.

Grantaire jumped and snapped the notebook closed, turning around to face Enjolras with wild eyes. “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

“I woke up,” Enjolras responded, crossing over to sit next to Grantaire on the couch and pulling the notebook—one of his own, probably stolen from his desk—and leafing through the pages until he found the sketches. They really were quite amazing. Grantaire had managed to fill several pages, which lead Enjolras to wonder how long he had been out for. Not all of the sketches were of himself, some were objects, and other pages featured Combeferre, Cosette, Marius, and a few half-started sketches he couldn’t quite determine who they were supposed to be. All were beautiful, and all were obviously done from memory, based on Enjolras’s assumption that none of the others has visited while Enjolras was asleep. “These are amazing, R.”

Grantaire smiled sheepishly and gingerly took the notebook back. “You were asleep for a while. A few hours. And you have very few books that I haven’t read, aside from political books that I don’t think I have the attention span currently to trudge through. Plus, no television. How do you not have a television, Enjolras? Even those below the poverty line have television!”

“Why do you have a page of me?”

Grantaire floundered for what to say. He opened his mouth a few times, then, after a moment of silence, closed it again, only to repeat the action several more times. Eventually, he just chose to keep his mouth closed and offer a one shouldered shrug as he looked anywhere but at Enjolras.

“I’m flattered, you know. And… thankful you’re here.”

“How are you feeling?” Grantaire looked thankful the conversation had shifted.

“Better. Not completely well, but I’m not on my deathbed anymore. I could use some more soup, though?”

Grantaire smiled and stood up, hesitating for a moment as he tried to decide where to put the notebook. Enjolras held out a hand and Grantaire looked unsure as he handed it over, then disappeared into the kitchen as Enjolras looked through the sketches again.

\---

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you out, Enjolras. Today was miserable. I’ve never done so many labs in my life.”

“It’s alright,” Enjolras replied, leaning into Grantaire slightly as the other male slept. “I survived well enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> hey you guys should follow me on tumblr because you're cool kids ~ beartaire.tumblr.com


End file.
